


Punch Drunk

by kethni



Category: Veep
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, F/M, Minor Violence, biker, request fic, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was having trouble getting face time with Kent Davison. She didn’t think he was avoiding her. She was pretty sure that it wouldn’t occur to him to make up an excuse for not speaking to her. But he was busier than everyone else. She didn’t know how that was even possible but it was. Catherine hadn’t known him as long as most of the others. Perhaps that was why she liked him a bit more. She loathed Jonah for many obvious reasons. She hated Dan partly because he had insisted on trying to force her into something she wasn’t – some trendy young thing. Amy ignored her, Ben and Sue patronised her, while Gary sneered jealously at her. Kent made no special effort to include or exclude her. He hadn’t even suggested pimping her out to the gay press. That had been Mike’s idea. Kent and Ben had both protested. Although she couldn’t remember which had said it was obviously deliberately manipulative and which said the clear desperation would be offputting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punch Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic request. The request was:   
>  _a mistaken identity fic where kent jumps Marjorie accidentally and she breaks his nose!_  
>  I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for, anon.

Catherine knew that most children didn’t grow up with their parents’ employees and colleagues continually in and out of their homes. She was aware that most teenagers didn’t spend their adolescence surrounded by their parent’s staff and colleagues.

It was an… ecosystem. The herbivorous household staff; cleaners, drivers, and secret service, were almost nocturnal, browsing in the undergrowth, sharing space with others but rarely interacting. The carnivorous interns preyed as much on each other as on the other side, all the while attempting to avoid becoming prey or victim to the omnivorous senior staff. Finally, there were the politicians themselves. The big beasts. They blundered around, crushing the unwary underfoot, largely oblivious to the other animals. Like all other ecosystems, the varies species kept to their roles. Interns dated interns. Staffers screwed staffers. Politicians married politicians.

Catherine had noticed that any… interspecies transgressions were treated with disbelief or disgust by the rest of the ecosystem. Everyone knew that. She knew that her mom knew that. It had been embarrassing when she was ‘dating’ the trainer, but he hadn’t _quite_ been in the ecosystem. Catherine had always known her place. She had never considered becoming intimate with an intern or a staffer.

Now she was dating the head of her mom’s secret service and her mom was… Catherine shook her head. She didn’t care what her mom did. She had her project to work on.

She was having trouble getting face time with Kent Davison. She didn’t think he was avoiding her. She was pretty sure that it wouldn’t occur to him to make up an excuse for not speaking to her. But he was busier than everyone else. She didn’t know how that was even possible but it was. Catherine hadn’t known him as long as most of the others. Perhaps that was why she liked him a bit more. She loathed Jonah for many obvious reasons. She hated Dan partly because he had insisted on trying to force her into something she wasn’t – some trendy young thing. Amy ignored her, Ben and Sue patronised her, while Gary sneered jealously at her. Kent made no special effort to include or exclude her. He hadn’t even suggested pimping her out to the gay press. That had been Mike’s idea. Kent and Ben had both protested. Although she couldn’t remember which had said it was obviously deliberately manipulative and which said the clear desperation would be offputting.

Kent was turning off his office light when she arrived.

‘I was hoping to ask some more questions,’ Catherine said. ‘Your life outside the West Wing. Um, hobbies.’

He straightened his tie. ‘I was just on my way to one.’

‘Could I come?’

Kent was one of the least expressive and excitable people that Catherine knew. It was something that she liked about him. So the twinkle of amusement was surprising and perhaps just a little worrying.

‘You could,’ he said. ‘If you have several hours spare and a pair of denim jeans.’

Catherine almost lowered the camera in surprise. ‘Jeans?’

‘For safety,’ he said. ‘Did you know that denim cloth was the first material used for protective clothing?’

Catherine, now utterly confused, shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’

***

Catherine looked over her shoulder: the secret service agents were definitely falling back. She didn’t think it was the speed. Kent was keeping to the speed limit, just. It was the weaving in and out of traffic. Kent’s Harley Davidson had manoeuvrability that the secret service SUVs couldn’t hope to match.

‘You okay back there?’ Kent asked. ‘You’re turning around more than I would have anticipated.’

‘How do you know?’

‘When you move it alters the weight distribution,’ he explained.

‘I was checking the secret service guys.’

‘I had neglected to account for them,’ Kent said. ‘I’ll reduce speed.’

Catherine shook her head. ‘Not being under twenty-four-hour guard might be a nice change.’

She felt the motorcycle throb as he accelerated. They zipped between cars and vans at dizzying velocity.

‘I thought boats were your thing,’ Catherine said.

‘They are. When I need solitude, peace, and quiet reflection I go out on my boat. However, there are times when I need to expel excess energy and testosterone while at the same time renewing and reinforcing bonds of friendship. When that happens I go out on my sled.’

‘Sled?’

‘Motorcycle,’ he said. ‘Apologies for slipping into the vernacular.’

***

Catherine’s thighs and butt were too numbed by the ride for her to properly parse what she was seeing. Catherine had gone to private schools. She and her classmates had ponies, skiing lessons, and learned the piano, or the violin. Even when she had gone to Disneyland with the housekeeper’s family she had always been kept away from ‘unsuitable types’ and ‘rough’ children.

Kent’s “compatriots” were _completely_ , thrillingly, unsuitable. As an adult, Catherine was aware that there were people who didn’t have staff to do the cooking and cleaning. She knew that for some people drug use was not simply something one did at parties between beers.

She had never seen bikers before. Not _real_ bikers in the _real_ world. They were larger and louder in every possible way then anyone she knew. Their body language _screamed_ physical and sexual aggression, even the women. What their actual words screamed she didn’t know since Catherine had learned French, not Spanish.

A lot of the bikers were about her mom’s age but they hadn’t looked after themselves. She’d never seen so much sun damage or unwashed hair. They didn’t know who she was except that she was Kent’s “backrider” filming a school project. That was… she didn’t know what that was. People always knew who she was. They always judged her for it.

Catherine spun around. One of the young guys had grabbed her ass. She saw him take a step back and then Kent knocked him flat. Kent snarled something at him in Spanish and received what _sounded_ like a grovelling apology in return. Then the boy turned to her and did the same.

‘You hit him!’

Kent held up his hands. ‘Each subculture has its own rules and traditions. It would be inappropriate to judge my actions here through the lens of West Wing mores.’

‘Are you going to get in trouble for that?’ Catherine asked, as the young biker scurried away.

Kent slightly raised his eyebrows. ‘Am I…? No. He saw that you rode in with me. He had no reason to believe you were a sweet butt. He was committing a significant etiquette breach by touching you.’

Catherine felt herself redden. ‘I don’t have a… sweet butt?’

Kent winced. ‘I’m afraid that there remains something of a misogynistic streak within the culture of motorcycle enthusiasts. It is particularly noticeable within the dialect of the club. A sweet butt is an attractive but unattached young woman seeking romantic fulfilment from one of the bikers.’

‘A groupie?’

‘If you like.’

 ***

By the time they left, the secret service was still nowhere to be seen.

‘God,’ Catherine said. ‘Marjorie is going to be so annoyed.’

‘You’re perfectly safe.’ Kent revved the engine.

‘They think it’s a miracle we don’t drown in the tub.’

She heard him laugh. It wasn’t quite the same one he used for her mom’s lame jokes.

‘I bet my mom never comes for rides,’ Catherine said.

He paused too long before answering. ‘Why would I have asked her to do so?’

Catherine shrugged. ‘I know my mom. I know the past couple months since she broke up with Charlie things have been different with you guys. She used to hate you. Now she touches you all the time. Like she’s marking her territory.’

There was another long pause. ‘As far as I am aware, the president doesn’t know of my membership of the club or my personal interests generally.’

Catherine wished she’d initiated this conversation when they were face to face. ‘She’s never interested in my stuff rather.’

‘Every person has their unique strengths and inclinations,’ he said. ‘Expecting your mother to be interested in my hobbies would be akin to expecting the Dalai Lama to run a Marathon. Lots of people are capable of it but I suspect it’s not in his wheelhouse.’

‘I never thought about it that way.’

She saw him shrug.

‘I find it can be helpful,’ he said.

***

Catherine groaned a little and hugged her stomach.

‘Kent?’

‘What?’

‘Can we stop somewhere and get something to eat? I’m… I’m really quite hungry.’

It was a problem she’d had a lot since becoming a raw food vegan. That and a certain, um, intestinal distress that Marjorie assured her was absolutely, definitely going to pass any day now.

‘We’re approaching a small town,’ Kent said. ‘We can try there.’

Catherine clung on to the motorcycle as they drove down what passed for a main street. When he parked the motorcycle, Catherine half fell onto the road.

Kent took off his helmet and scratched his scalp.

‘Do I have helmet hair?’ Catherine asked.

‘Yes, you need to ruffle your hair. Like this.’

She copied his movement as he rustled his hair aggressively and then smoothed it down.

‘That felt good,’ Catherine said.

Kent reached out and very delicately smoothed down a lock of her hair with his fingertips. ‘Hmm. Better.’ He took off his jacket and put it in a saddlebag. ‘Club jackets can cause comment and, at times, unnecessary hostility.’

Catherine took off the jacket he had lent her. It was too large and nothing she would normally dream of wearing. Nonetheless, she had a twinge of reluctance.

Kent noticed. ‘It can be freeing to do something wildly outside your usual frame of reference.’

Catherine followed him along the road. ‘Since Mee-Maw died I’ve been thinking a lot about how short life is. I might be struck down by some disease or accident without ever fulfilling my potential.’

‘Humanity is but a brief flare of candlelight in the infinite darkness of the universe. Although it is statistically impossible that we are the only intelligent race.’ He was fiddling with his cell. ‘This is unfortunate.’

‘If they saw how we raped the planet and mistreated other species, I think they would consider us a blight.’

Kent blinked. ‘I was referring to my inability to get a signal.’

Catherine deflated a little as she checked hers. ‘Me either.’

Kent clucked his tongue. ‘I was hoping to search for a restaurant that would cater to your particular dietary quirks,’ he said.

She waved her hand. ‘It’s not a quirk. Veganism is the only ethical choice.’

‘I understand the ethical arguments against eating meat,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand the decision to exclude cooking.’

‘Cooking kills nutrients and can even make food toxic!’

Kent cocked his head. ‘That is simply untrue. Although overcooking meat can make it mildly carcinogenic. The nutrients in numerous foodstuffs are more readily bio-available when cooked. Your argument is unscientific.’

Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘If you expect people to make decisions based on science then I’m not surprised that you lost.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘We didn’t lose and the failure of the American people to privilege science over superstition and snake oil is no poor reflection on myself.’ He pointed at a window. ‘Perhaps you could have a salad or similar from here.’

Catherine peered through the window. ‘It doesn’t say anything about raw vegan food.’

‘Given our current location I suspect vegetarian might be the best you can reasonably hope for.’

‘God, these people are savages,’ she muttered.

***

The waitress was very unhelpful. She didn’t know if their food was vegan. She didn’t know if the dressings contained animal products. She didn’t know what “vegan” meant. She just stood, staring at Catherine as if she had fallen from the sky.

‘Perhaps a plain, green leaf salad,’ Kent suggested eventually.

Catherine sagged a little. ‘I guess.’

The waitress turned her sullen gaze on Kent. ‘Well? What do you want?’

‘A cheeseburger with blue cheese dressing, steak fries, and onion rings.’ he said. ‘I can’t drink while in charge of a vehicle so I will have a glass of orange juice.’

‘Thank God,’ the waitress said, as she stamped away.

‘You’re not really going to eat that?’ Catherine asked as she set up her camera.

‘Certainly,’ Kent said. ‘I'm hungry. I attempt to eat properly but a little indulgence once or twice a month won’t kill me.’

‘Can I ask some more questions?’ Catherine said focusing on him.

‘What kind of documentary are you filming?’

‘What kind?’

‘Poetic, observational, expository, participatory, reflexive or… is it performative?’

‘Uh… I don’t know those,’ Catherine said.

Kent drew his brows together. ‘Perhaps you studied De Bromhead’s theories instead? Linear, discursive, episodic, poetic, and hybrid.’

‘I... uh… I just observe and film.’

‘Sure,’ Kent said. ‘During filming. However once in the editing booth arguments can be made, juxtapositions drawn, and evidence slanted numerous ways. Music and narration can drastically effect how events are perceived.’

‘I want it to be an unbiased account,’ Catherine said. ‘It’s a documentary.’ She felt her heart sink when he frowned.

‘You haven’t watched many documentaries.’

‘I like David Attenborough,’ she offered.

'I see.'

‘Have you watched many?’

Kent interlaced his fingers. ‘Less than I did when I was doing my minor in journalism. My final project was a making-of about the student film my housemate was making for her film studies class.’

Catherine almost dropped the camera. ‘Can I see it?’

‘I’m not sure. Legally it can’t be shown "publicly" but I suppose one person doesn’t count.’

‘Your movie was banned?’

Kent shook his head. ‘I took out a court order forbidding Jolinda from publicly exhibiting the student move as I was concerned it might adversely affect my career. She retaliated by refusing permission for any material she owned to be shown by me. Since it’s a behind the scenes documentary cutting out anything she owned would leave behind about two minutes of people looking surprised or annoyed.’

‘Did you want to show it?’ Catherine asked.

‘No, but Jolinda’s grasp of logic was never good. She’s an artist, not an academic.’

The waitress slammed down Catherine’s glass of water and Kent’s glass of juice.

‘Jolinda Hilton?’ Catherine asked.

Kent nodded.

‘She’s Marjorie’s favourite artist!’

‘We were at college together,’ Kent said. ;When she came to film her grand opus she begged, threatened, and blackmailed us all in the house into appearing.’ He waggled his hand. ‘I wouldn’t say acting. There were perhaps two decent performances. The rest were poor. The script was atrocious, the direction laughable, and the editing appalling.’

‘Did you want to be an actor?’

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘What direction does your ambition lie in?’

‘Um...’ Catherine adjusted her grip on the camera. ‘I haven’t really thought.’

Kent sipped his juice. ‘It’s never too early to think about your future.’

‘What about your future? What will you do if my mom loses?’

Kent narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘You’re not necessarily going to be using this.’

‘It depends how interesting it is.’

The waitress shoved their food onto the table.

Kent picked up his fork. ‘I am relatively fortunate in that my skill set is far more readily transferable than say Ben or Mike. I have a number of options and have interviews pencilled in should the vote not go our way.’

‘Is that likely?’

Kent thought about it. ‘It’s possible. The vote will be exceptionally close. Of that I am sure.’

***

Catherine had finished her salad. Her stomach was still growling. Kent gestured as his plate.

‘I have more food than I will eat.’

‘Your fries look so good,’ she moaned.

He smiled slightly. ‘Have some.’

‘I can’t. I’m a raw food vegan.’

‘That’s a choice, not a defining characteristic of your identity.' He shrugged. 'Nobody has to know.’

Catherine ticked her lips and then took a fry. Then a handful.

‘Good?’ Kent asked.

‘So good.’ She ate them quickly and sank back against her seat. ‘I’ll have to tell Marjorie.’

‘You tell her everything?’

Catherine rubbed her belly. ‘Most things.’

‘How original.’

‘Do you think you and my mom will be a long-term thing?’

That stopped him dead, burger in hand.

‘Is that a rude question?’

Kent put down the burger. ‘It’s... a complicated question. As long as she’s president she can’t openly date a staffer. Should she lose then I strongly suspect she will want nothing more to do with me.’

Catherine frowned. ‘That seems harshly.’

‘She wasn’t joking when she blamed me for the tie.’ He sighed. ‘In certain respects I admire her greatly. However, taking responsibility is not an aspect of her personality I have seen enough to form an opinion on.’

‘I tried to get Gary to talk about his real feelings for my mom and he got  _pissed_.’ 

‘Of course, what did you expect? To love where you are not loved in return is a painful business.’

Catherine jolted as her cell rang. Kent immediately checked his own.

‘Hi Dad,’ she said.

It was the same conversation they’d had pretty much every week since Mee-Maw died. Her dad had never been so interested in where she was or what she was doing. But however many questions he asked about Marjorie or her documentary, it always ended up with him talking about the Brazil deal.

Catherine put her cell away. ‘Sorry,’ she said to Kent. ‘My dad. He has this investment opportunity.’

‘Fry?’ Kent suggested.

She took a handful. ‘I know he’s… I know what he is,’ she said quietly. ‘But he’s my dad.’

‘My father told me never to lend money to friends or family,’ Kent said. ‘It will only cause resentment to one or both of you. He said give if you want. Or don’t give it. But never lend.’ Kent shrugged. ‘I think I would apply the same to investments.’

‘He’ll be more resentful if I don’t,’ she said.

‘Then your mom will set him straight. Worry about yourself above him.’ Kent shrugged. ‘Parents forgive more easily.’

Catherine shuddered. ‘I’m not sure that’s always true.’

‘Nothing in life outside of math, is always true.’

***

The secret service agents looked pissed.

‘We had to brief the director,’ the lead agent said.

Kent shrugged. ‘Perhaps next time you’ll have more appropriate equipment.’

Catherine smiled. ‘Secret service motorcycle patrol,’ she suggested. It was probably the fries making her giddy, she thought.

She enjoyed the ride back more than the ride out. There was little traffic and the motorcycle zipped along the road as if nobody else existed.

‘Have you ever had an accident?’ Catherine asked. ‘On the bike?’

‘Couple times. Got T-boned when a drunk driver went through a stop sign. Other time I was riding along and a woman walked out into the street. She saw me. Expected me to go around or stop on a penny. There was a semi in the next lane. I wasn’t about to go under a semi because an imbecile didn’t understand inertia.’

‘What happened?’

‘I hit the brakes and hit her in that order. I slid the bike in. Broke both her legs and scratched up my bike. Right by a traffic cam so I was clear legally.’

‘Was she okay?’

‘It took her forever to pay for my repairs, I know that.’

***

The intention was for Kent to drop Catherine back at the White House and go home. The secret service had other ideas.

‘The director wishes to speak to you both.’

‘Lucy, you got some ‘splaining to do,’ Kent said to Catherine.

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind.’

The secret service agent eyed Kent. ‘Do you want to get changed?’

Kent set his jaw. ‘I do not.’

They met the director in Kent’s office, which Catherine thought was nuts.

‘Why is your office so small? You’re a really senior staffer,’ Catherine said.

‘The location is infinitely more important than the size.’

‘Opposite Sue?’

‘Next to the Oval Office,’ he said.

‘Have you quite finished?’ the director asked. ‘Are you quite aware of the gravity of the situation?’

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Catherine said.

‘That is more by good fortune than anything else. You were out of sight for more than three hours!’

‘I’m a grown woman.’

‘You should know better,’ he said to Kent.

Kent held up his hands. ‘Your team knew we were travelling on a motorcycle. That they couldn’t keep up is not my fault. That they became enmeshed in a traffic snarl up isn’t my issue.’

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Catherine said. ‘Talk to me. I went for a ride. Your guys couldn’t keep up. We hit a dead zone. God. As soon as we got cell signals we called in.’

‘Take this up with your team,’ Kent suggested.

‘Believe me, I will. And a man your age riding a motorcycle is ridiculous.’

‘You are cheating on your wife with a treasury intern,’ Kent said. ‘Don’t talk to me about ridiculous.’

‘What’s going on here?’ Selina asked, wandering in. ‘Kinda late for... what the... what the fuck are you wearing?’ she asked Kent.

‘If you’ll excuse me, Madam President,’ the director said, escaping through the door.

‘Yeah, yeah, sure.’ She gave Kent a long, slow look.

‘Ew, mom,’ Catherine protested. ‘Can you leave the sex eyes until I’m not here?’

‘What? The what? Catherine, honey, I have no idea... No idea what you’re talking about,’ Selina said.

‘She knows.’ Kent said quietly.

‘He’s dressed like that because Kent is in a motorcycle club. He took me for a ride on his motorcycle,’ Catherine said. ‘I met some members of his club. For my documentary.’

Selina was half smirking as she looked at Kent. ‘You’re in a motorcycle gang?’

‘It’s a club.’

Selina grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. She whistled at the logo.

‘Yeah, that’s a gang logo.’ She started to laugh. ‘Ya in a fucking motorcycle gang. That is fucking amazing.’

‘Thank you,’ he said dryly.

Catherine swung her arms. ‘Are dad and Monny here yet?’

‘Urgh, I fucking hate your birthday,’ Selina groaned.

‘Mom!’

‘Not because of you, sweetie, you know that.’ She looked at Kent again. ‘Andrew has brought his girlfriend.’

‘Oh,’ Kent said blankly.

Selina looked thoughtful. Catherine’s heart sank.

‘Have you eaten?’ Selina asked.

Behind Selina, Catherine frantically gestured ‘no!’

‘No...’

‘Great, come have dinner.’

‘Mom, what are you doing?’ Catherine asked. ‘You guys are on the down low.’

Selina snorted. ‘The down low? This isn’t _Boyz N the Hood_ , Catherine.’

‘I’m not dressed appropriately,’ Kent said.

‘You’re dressed perfectly,’ Selina said. ‘Don’t you change a fucking thing.’

***

‘Are you dating criminals now?’ Andrew asked.

‘Not since we split up,’ Selina said. ‘You remember Kent Davison. He’s my senior strategist-cum-campaign manager.’

‘Dear God, what are you wearing?’

‘Oh hush,’ Monica said. ‘I think it looks rugged.’ She smiled. ‘I saw you at the hospital didn’t I? Not every man can carry off business professional and motorcycle gang chic.’

‘We’re a club,’ Kent said. ‘Not a gang.’

‘You took Catherine to a meeting of misogynistic, violent, criminal assholes and you did it without the Secret Service?’ Marjorie asked.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Catherine said. ‘They were all very sweet. Apart from that one guy who grabbed my ass. But it’s okay! Kent made sure he won’t do that again.’

Marjorie slightly leaned forward. ‘Did you kill him?’

‘He punched him,’ Catherine said.

‘Huh. I suppose that will have to do.’

Selina was pouring drinks. ‘Ya punched a guy?’

‘Mom, the guy basically assaulted me!’

‘I wasn’t complaining,’ Selina said.

‘I would never lay my hand on someone in violence,’ Andrew said piously.

Selina regarded him. ‘Really? Ya wouldn’t raise your hand to some asshole taking liberties with your daughter?’ Because I fucking would.’

Monica touched Catherine’s hand. ‘Are you okay kitty-cat? Do you need a doctor?’

‘I’m fine. I wish I’d never mentioned it.’

‘Well I enjoyed hearing the punching part,’ Selina said. ‘Ya just got eighty percent more interesting’.

He smiled thinly. ‘Thank you."

‘The look definitely works for you,’ Monica said. ‘Maybe leather is going to be “in” for furnishings this season.’

Andrew clasped Marjorie’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Guess it’s up to you and me to fly the flag of decency in the face of all this ridiculous machismo.’

‘Quit grabbing your daughter’s girlfriend, ‘for fuck’s sake,’ Selina said. ‘Jesus, have some self-respect.’

‘I was just-’

‘It’s not cool, dad,’ Catherine said.

‘Perhaps I should go,’ Kent said quietly to Selina.

‘Don’t you fucking dare! This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these family things.’ She reached around to squeeze his butt. ‘If you’re a good boy, later I’ll let you ride me.’

Kent looked her over. ‘Deal.’

* * *

Despite half-joking, and half-serious, protests, Kent had hung up his jacket. He retained his hooded top with the club artwork and that had been enough for Selina. Just.

As they waited for the food to be brought out. Andrew sidled over to Selina.

‘Had your fun?’ he asked.

‘You’re still here, so no,’ she said.

Andrew nodded over at Kent, who was talking to Monica.

‘You’re not seriously planning to have your plaything eat with us.’

‘My "plaything"? The fact that you can say that with a straight face while you’re dating the happy chipmunk homemaker is the height of freaking hypocrisy.’

‘Monica is not a bad influence on our child.’

Selina threw up her hands. ‘Our child is twenty-four, Andrew! She’s a grown woman. Not to mention, are you fucking kidding me? You know Kent. His idea of a wild night is probably staying up until ten pm and having a small glass of milk.’

‘If he’s so respectable why the secrecy?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Oh come on.’

‘It couldn’t be that he’s a staffer and your relationship is therefore wildly inappropriate,’ Andrew sneered.

Selina poked his shoulder. ‘I will fuck whoever I want, whenever I want, however I want, wherever I want.’

In the bright, clear silence that followed, Monica cleared her throat as she turned to Kent. ‘Sound like you’re gonna have a fun evening.’

Catherine buried her face in Marjorie’s shoulder.

***

‘Oh, my,’ Selina said with a wavering smile plastered on her face. This food looks... amazing.’

‘What is it?’ Kent asked.

‘Wild mushroom and spinach lasagne,’ Marjorie said.

‘Is that nutmeg I can taste?’ Monica asked.

‘No.’

‘Are you sure there isn’t nutmeg in this?’ Monica asked. ‘It sure tastes of it.’

‘There’s no nutmeg in the recipe,’ Marjorie said.

‘New kitchen staff?’ Kent asked Selina.

‘What, like I’d know?’ She nudged Kent with her elbow. ‘You gotta eat or Catherine will be offended.’

‘No she won’t.’

Selina squinted at him. ‘Because?’

‘Because less than two hours ago I had a burger and half a portion of fries.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Catherine ate the other half.’

‘Ha!’

Kent scowled. ‘Marjorie cannot know.’

‘Christ, imagine being in a relationship where eating a couple fries is an earth-shattering event.’ Selina forced a mouthful of food. ‘I don’t eat fries. but now ya got me craving them.’

Kent smiled slightly. ‘They were exceptional.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Crispy on the outside,’ Kent continued.

‘Shut up.’

‘Fluffy on the inside.’

Selina jabbed him with her fork.

‘Ow!’ Kent complained.

‘Is everything okay?’ Catherine asked.

‘Yeah, Kent is just being annoying,’ Selina said.

Andrew smirked. ‘Watch your motorcycle,’ he advised Kent. ‘When we were getting divorced my car "mysteriously" caught fire. Of course we were married for a long time. You really cannot overstate the importance of marriage in a long-term relationship.’

Selina threw a mushroom at him. ‘If you’re gonna get weird, jealous, and pissy then at least make sense.’

‘Andrew isn’t jealous,’ Monica said. ‘Jealousy is unhealthy and an unnatural emotion that poisons the soul.’

Kent frowned. ‘What meaning are you ascribing to "unnatural"?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘If you are using it in the classical sense then your statement is simply and self-evidently wrong. Cats display jealousy. Dogs display jealousy. Apes, dolphins, and multiple other specify species demonstrate jealousy. Therefore, jealousy, while possibly destructive, is most certainly natural.’

Monica smiled smugly. ‘But it’s not good.’

‘Irrespective of how one feels about jealousy, the word "natural" is not synonymous with "good" and "unnatural" is not synonymous with bad. Many natural things are deadly.’

‘You tell her,’ Selina muttered patting his knee.

***

Things were getting a little... strange. Catherine hadn’t much of an appetite after all the fries, and the nutmeg was weirdly strong. She felt fine though while everyone else was being just a little bit odd. Except Kent. He was being weird in his usual way which had become sort of reasurring in its own way. He was like an amiable sort of eccentric.

Oh. Perhaps Catherine was feeling a little odd after all.

‘Kitty-cat,’ Andrew said. ‘Can we watch your documentary?’

‘It’s not ready, Dad. I just have raw footage.’

‘Nothing else raw,’ Selina said.

‘Cooking is killing,’ Marjorie said.

‘Really?’ Selina asked. ‘So if a murderer bursts in here you’re gonna sauté him to death? Jesus. You’re the fucking Secret Service. Learn the difference before you accidentally kill Catherine while trying to poach an egg.’ She slapped Kent’s arm. ‘Don’t look at me that way.’

‘I’d love to see the footage,’ Monica said. ‘Love to.’

‘Oh, okay!’

Selina groaned.

‘Play nicely,’ Andrew said.

‘I’ll take it under advisement. Nope.’

‘Next time you should bring your movie,’ Catherine said to Kent.

Selina eyed him. ‘Your movie?’

He dismissed it with a gesture. ‘When I was in college I was shanghaied into appearing in a housemate’s student film. I made a behind-the-scenes documentary about it for my journalism course.’

‘How did you both score?’ Catherine asked.

‘She passed, barely. I was the top of my class.’

‘Any sex, violence, or nudity?’ Selina sniggered.

‘Not in the final version of the documentary,’ Kent did.

‘Honey, you used the wrong version,’ Monica said.

‘Tell Marjorie who your housemate was,’ Catherine urged. ‘It was Jolinda Hilton’s student movie.’

‘Not _the_ Jolinda Hilton,’ Marjorie asked.

‘I wouldn’t say "the," she has an inflated sense of her own importance as it is,’ Kent said.

Marjorie sat forward. ‘Her student movie is illegal to show in public. There’s a court order.’

‘How much nudity and sex is there in this thing?’ Selina asked.

‘In her movie? One rape scene and about thirty nude scenes.’

Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘No wonder you thought it’d be bad for your career.’

‘You filmed nude scenes?’ Selina asked. ‘Where’s my phone? I have to tell Ben.’

Kent scowled. ‘I did not. I had a couple of shirtless scenes and one shower scene, but I was covered up. I also had the aforementioned rape scene. The nude scenes were all Jessica. Jolinda had a crush on her.’

‘Ew,’ Monica said. ‘Making your crush film a lot of nude scenes is not okay.’

Kent inclined his head. ‘Finally something upon which we agree.’

***

Selina bit the shell of his ear. Kent almost recoiled.

‘Don’t be such a fucking baby, nobody’s watching,’ she whispered.

‘Nevertheless, I don’t feel that this is appropriate in front of your daughter and ex-husband,’ he whispered back.

Selina slid her hand onto his thigh and squeezed. ‘They’re watching her boring ass footage. God, how much film does anyone need need of fax machines and people walking up and down corridors?’

‘I’m more concerned with the footage she appears to have taken of Ben promising Bill a presidential pardon.’

‘Pfft.’ Selina squeezed his thigh again. ‘Catherine has no idea what she’s got. She won’t use it.’

‘We need to check all of her footage to see what else…’ Kent ducked his head as she bit his ear again. ‘I am at a loss to understand what has got into you.’

‘What, the big bad biker can’t deal with a little bite?’

Kent lowered his voice. ‘Under appropriate circumstances I am positively enthusiastic about it. However, these are not appropriate circumstances.’

‘Dad!’ They turned as Catherine raised her voice.

‘Kitty-cat, I was just being friendly,’ he protested.

‘Please stop,’ Marjorie said.

Kent unpeeled Selina’s fingers from his thigh. ‘The night is drawing in. I will wish you all adieu. Madam President, I will see you in the morning.’

Selina stood up with him. ‘Lemme just check that thing with you,’ she said. ‘It’s in the library.’

Kent nodded as he reached for his jacket. ‘Certainly, Ma’am.’

‘Good, good,’ Selina said, walking swiftly after him.

***

 They barely reached the library before Selina was tugging at his belt. Kent caught her up and sat her on the reading table.

‘Is this wise?’ he asked, pulling her blouse up over her head.

‘Fuck wise.’ Selina knotted her fingers into his hair and pulled him into a kiss.

Selina's bra unhooked at the front. Kent pushed the cups from her breasts.

‘You got something?’ she asked.

‘Of course. Wallet.’

Selina reached around and slid her hand into his back pocket. ‘Keep working those tits.’

‘You’re such a romantic,’ he murmured.

‘Not gonna apologise for making sure I get what I need.’ Selina took the rubber from his wallet and put the wallet back.

Kent kissed the side of her neck. ‘In every aspect of my life, Ma’am, I am always devoted to fulfilling your needs.’

‘Then get your cock out.’

‘I regret that I only have two hands and they are both entirely occupied.’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Men.’ She opened the condom wrapper, unbuttoned his boxers, and rolled the condom onto him.

Kent moved a little closer, allowing Selina to wrap her legs around him.

She grunted as he entered her.

‘Is that…’

‘Can you just…’

‘Like that?’

‘Oh… yeah that’s the spot.’

Selina buried her face against his shoulder. Her nails dug into his back.

***

Selina pushed herself off the table and smoothed down her dress. ‘Whoa, ya fucked me rubber-legged.’

‘I aim to please.’ Kent tucked himself away and checked his watch. ‘I suspect your prolonged absence will have been noticed.’

Selina flipped back her hair. ‘Please, Catherine and Marjorie wouldn’t notice if a bomb went off.’

‘What of Andrew and Monica?’

‘Christ, I hope _they_ noticed.’ Selina flicked his nose with her finger. ‘When do I get to ride on your motorcycle?’ she asked.

‘Never.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because my work life is separate from my private life,’ Kent said.

‘Says the man who just throw a boner into his boss,’ she sneered.

‘Secretly,’ he said. ‘In what amounts to the workplace.’

‘Huh.’ Selina squinted at him. ‘Didn’t realise you figured fucking me was just one more annoying part of your job.’

Kent sighed. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

She slapped him.

‘Ow!’

‘Don’t you use that dismissive fucking tone with me!’

Kent clutched his cheek. ‘You hit me!’

‘Ya use that patronising tone and ya better believe I’ll hit ya.’

Kent’s shoulders dropped. ‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘I should have moderated my tone. It wasn’t at all representative of my feelings.’

Selina adjusted her blouse. ‘I really hurt ya, huh?’

‘I have a low pain threshold.’

‘Sure ya do. You’re a man.’ She ran her hand down his arm. ‘Don’t go home tonight. I’ll kick Andrew and Nigella out. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.’

‘They’ll see me.’

‘So, wait here. I’ll come back and get ya when the coast is clear.’ She stood on her tiptoes to bite his lower lip. ‘It’ll be fun.’

‘We have different ideas of fun.’

Selina pushed her hand down his jeans and cradled his balls.

‘My ideas of fun actually are fun.’

Kent grunted. ‘Could you... not?’

‘Spoilsport. Wait here. I’ll come get ya and we can play "the President and the Biker" in a guest room.’

‘Can’t wait.’

* * *

A half hour passed.

An hour.

An hour and a half.

Kent had gone from waiting because he’d been told to, to waiting because he was concerned what might happen if he didn’t. Selina’s lack of consideration for other people’s time was absolute. He wasn’t allowed to have other calls on his time. She didn’t accept that he had needs. That had been the case even before the stress had started to get to her. Now she was even worse: snapping and snarling, alternating between paranoia and open aggression.

There had been a time, when this had first started, when there had been glimmers of genuine affection. She had kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. Laid her cheek against his chest. Kent could go a long way on a little tenderness, but it had been in very short supply of late.

This hadn’t been what he dreamt of when he first got into politics.

He checked his watch. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t stand here all night. He’d just have to deal with any potential unhappiness in the morning.

He opened the door and edged out into the corridor. At the end of the corridor he opened the door to the staircase. It was only dimly lit by the ambient light coming through the windows. Perhaps if he turned on the torch function on his cell... But that might attract attention.

He heard a soft shuffling sound. Kent looked up, and saw a small, female figure with dark, shoulder-length hair. She was looking down over the barristers. Then she turned and padded through the door.

Kent felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. It was a text from Selina:

_Hey sexxxy. Wanaa come up and cuddle?_

He stared at it for several seconds. It honestly sounded more appealing than her earlier offer. It was late. He was tired. He wasn’t a horny teenage boy. Cuddling up in bed sounded like bliss. He texted back:

_I’m on my way._

He followed her up the stairs and through the doors. He could see her at the far end.

Another text:

_I’m waiating for my cuddle_

Kent increased his speed. He winced at the sound of his footfalls. He had no desire for Catherine or Marjorie to investigate. He wasn’t embarrassed. It was an emotion that rarely troubled him. Nonetheless, he had no desire to be caught skulking around like a common adulterer or, worse, the boss’s sexual plaything. 

He reached the end of the corridor. Saw the small, feminine shape. Pulled her close and kissed her.

She shoved him away.

‘What-?’

‘Get the fuck off me, Andrew!’

He didn’t see the blow. The flat of her palm slammed into his nose. Kent bellowed in pain and stumbled backwards.

Someone turned the lights on. Kent clutched his handkerchief to his nose. Marjorie was sweating heavily and shivering.

‘Marjorie, come back to the bedroom!’ Catherine said, rushing over.

Marjorie blinked slowly and pointed at Kent. ‘Your dad needs to stop touching me.’

‘I thought she was your mother,’ Kent said thickly, through the blood seeping from his nose.

‘You’re bleeding on the carpet,’ Catherine complained.

‘Your lover just punched me in the face!’ Kent pinched his nose just above the nostrils.

‘I think we need some oranges,’ Marjorie said, turning away.

Catherine grabbed her by the arm, pulled her back, and pushed her into the television room. ‘Go watch some TV, okay?’

Kent looked at Catherine.

‘She’s been like that for a little while,’ Catherine said. ‘She doesn’t know where she is. She keeps muttering about dad. She’s worse than mom.’

Kent dabbed tentatively at his nose. ‘Your mother is affected?’

‘They all are. It didn’t get really bad until about half an hour ago. Dad is in bed crying about his head falling off and Monny just keeps giggling.’

‘We need a doctor,’ Kent said.

‘I don’t think they can do much for a broken nose.’

‘It’s broken?’

‘Maybe.’

Kent shook his head and regretted it. ‘A doctor for them. They must’ve ingested something.’

‘We all ate the same thing.’

‘I didn’t each much,’ Kent said. ‘The burger and fries…’

Catherine nodded. ‘Me either. God, mom is never going to shut up about raw vegan food poisoning.’

‘Probably the mushrooms,’ Kent said.

‘Or the nutmeg,’ Catherine suggested.

‘Oh?’

‘If you use enough.’

Kent gingerly touched his nose. ‘Where’s the first aid kit?’

‘It’s in the kitchen.’ Catherine waved a hand vaguely. ‘I’m gonna go check on Marjorie.’

Kent sighed as he headed to the kitchen. Although he was perfectly capable of defending himself, and had against men on a number of occasions, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been taken so much by surprise. Marjorie wasn’t even the first woman to strike him, although she was the only one with whom he hadn’t been romantically involved.

He cleaned his face, washed his beard and moustache, had a couple of painkillers from the first aid kit, and took a small bag of ice from the freezer. He groaned slightly as he gently pressed it to his nose. He was going to look like hell tomorrow.

***

Catherine met him as he headed for the stairs.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘Have you called the doctor?’

Selina wandered out. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt and nothing else.

‘Now, I’m scarred for life,’ Catherine said.

‘You weren’t already?’

‘Hey Daddy,’ Selina said, snuggling up to Kent. ‘Gonna put me to bed?’

Catherine threw up her arms. ‘Just when I think it’s impossible for me to be more traumatised by my mother.’

Kent wrapped his jacket around Selina. ‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’ He looked at Catherine. ‘Call the doctor, now. I’ll be back shortly.’

‘Um, you’re not going to sleep with her are you? She looks pretty enthusiastic,’ Catherine said. ‘But she’s not thinking clearly so...’ She trailed off at his expression of disgust.

‘She is in no position to give consent,’ Kent said.

‘That’s what I’m saying!’

‘So it isn’t going to happen,’ he said firmly.

Catherine swung her arms. ‘Great. So, hurry back.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘I can’t do this by myself.’

He sighed. ‘I appreciate that, but Selina has to be my priority.’

Catherine tilted her head. ‘Because she’s the president or because you’re sleeping together?’

‘Call the doctor,’ he said flatly.

Getting Selina back to bed was significantly easier said than done. She repeatedly tried to wander off, once she announced she was bird and was going to fly off the stairs, and finally grabbed Kent’s balls.

‘Hi boys,’ she said.

‘Let go,’ he said, trying to pry her hand loose.

‘I’m saying hello to my buddies. Best fucking friends a girl could have. Get it? Best fucking friends?’ she giggled.

‘Selina,’ Kent said quietly, ‘please let go, you’re hurting me.’

‘What happened to your face?’

‘Marjorie punched me.’

‘You shouldn’t let her do that.’ She patted his cheek with her free hand.

‘I’ll take that under advisement.’

Selina let go and let him lead her into her bedroom.

‘I feel terrible,’ she moaned.

‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had a nap.’

She caught his hand. ‘Come on.’

‘I have to help Catherine.’

‘Mother Theresa couldn’t help Catherine.’ She contrived to lie down while still holding his hand. ‘Get back here,’ she ordered.

‘I need to –’

‘Quit whining you fucking pussy.’

‘I’ve just been punched in the face,’ he protested.

‘You promised me a cuddle.’ She sighed heavily. ‘Nobody wants to hold hands or cuddle anymore.’

‘I do,’ Kent said quietly. He climbed onto the bed and spooned behind her.

 ‘Don’t get mushy on me Davison,’ she muttered.

‘Never.’

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

 


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